Only Time Can Tell
by Darkest Desire
Summary: It's not every day that someone discovers a new corridor in Hogwarts. When Harry does, he lets his curiosity get the best of him and winds up in Hogwarts in the year 1942 with a sixteen year old Tom Riddle. TRHP SLASH
1. A Turn for the Worse

Summary: It's not every day that someone discovers a new corridor in Hogwarts. When Harry does, he lets his curiosity get the best of him winds up in a lot of trouble, not to mention another time. Can he survive attending Hogwarts in the year 1942 with a sixteen year old Tom Riddle? HP/TR SLASH

A/N: The phrase written on the mirror has been changed and the chapter has been edited for stupid errors. ;)

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CHAPTER ONE: A TURN FOR THE WORSE

--(A/N: This chapter is written from Harry's point of view.)--

The most interesting things always happen when you least expect them. Take this, for instance. I was merely looking for somewhere where I could be alone with my thoughts, a place where I could have some peace and quiet. Naturally, I thought of the Room of Requirement. So, I was heading down the staircase between the fifth and sixth floors, the one over on the west side of the castle near Gryffindor tower (there must be about a million staircases in this bloody place), when all of a sudden the blasted thing started to shift!

I was already about midway down the stairs—too far down to go back to the top and too far away from the next landing to make it down before it moved—so I just had to hang on tight and allow the staircase to take me away to wherever it was that it was going. Thankfully I was in no hurry; in fact, I wasn't even supposed to be out at this hour—but that's beside the point. Anyway, I had to resign myself to holding tightly onto the banister as I was whisked away, much to my displeasure.

When the staircase finally stopped, lurching to a sudden halt with the groan and grind of wood and stone, I found myself looking down a corridor that I had no memory of. That in itself was a highly unusual occurrence, seeing as how I had thought I'd covered just about every inch of the school using my handy dandy Marauder's Map. This newly discovered corridor intrigued me and so, despite my better judgment, I begin to make my way down the stairs.

I wasn't entirely sure in what part of the castle I was, for the twisting and turning and shifting and swirling of the staircase had gotten me fairly mixed up along the way, but I assumed that I was at the southern portion now, though I couldn't tell for sure. Wanting to make sure that I had, in fact, made a new discovery or at the very least wanting to find out where in Merlin's name I was, I hastily drew the Marauder's Map out of the inner pocket of my robe, tapping my wand against it and whispering, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." My words echoed eerily down the empty stone hallway, which was, I must admit, somewhat creepy. I quickly shifted my attention back to the map as it slowly came to life with a flourish of inky black lines.

Tracing my eyes over it, I found the southern portion of the castle and hastily begin to search for the little black dot labeled Harry Potter. It was closer to the eastern side of Hogwarts than I had at first assumed, but I eventually spotted it, though my situation became even more perplexing when I did. The dot denoting where I was currently standing was situated right smack dab on top of one of the many black lines that made up the blueprint of the castle. "Well, that's strange," I whispered to myself in confusion, starting to question my sanity, "It says that I'm standing in the middle of a wall." And indeed it did. I was just wondering what on earth I should do next when I noticed a new swirl of ink forming at the bottom of the page.

Focusing now on that I began to read what the Marauders had to say on the matter:

_Padfoot: Congratulations! You seem to have just discovered a new portion of the castle!_

_Prongs: And here I thought that we had already discovered anything and everything inside and outside of Hogwarts!_

_Moony: You might only be able to get there on a certain date or at a certain time. There may be very specific circumstances that have to be met for you to get there._

_Wormtail: Maybe it was added on later...What? It could have been..._

I stopped reading at this point, figuring that I had already gleaned all of the pertinent information from what Remus had mentioned. Let's see...it's Tuesday, September 3rd, 1996, around eleven o'clock pm...But what could have made the corridor suddenly appear where there hadn't been one before? An-and what if...what if the corridor suddenly _dis_appears and takes me with it?

Turning to look back at the staircase that I had just come down, I wondered warily if I should head back before I could find out the answer to my last question. It was a tough call, but eventually my curiosity won out over my caution, as I turned back around to look down the rather narrow and poorly lit hallway I had inadvertently discovered.

There were several doors branching off of the corridor, all of different shapes and sizes—some were even different colors. Otherwise the hallway was empty, completely bare except for the cobwebs and dust that covered just about everything. Deciding that my invisibility cloak wasn't really necessary here—after all, no one even knew that this corridor existed let alone that I had gone down it—I stripped it off, draping it over my right arm as I tucked the map back inside my robe seeing as how it would do me no good in this uncharted territory.

Shuffling slowly down the hall, my footsteps seeming rather loud in the otherwise silent corridor and my heart beating madly inmy chest, I slowly made my way to the first door on my left, my eyes darting every which way to make sure that I wouldn't get caught, though it was doubtful that I would. Taking a deep breath and twisting the tarnished silver doorknob, I pushed open the rather heavy wooden door, its hinges creaking loudly as I did so. Taking a look inside, I let out an involuntary gasp. The entire room, which was bigger than it had appeared from the outside, was covered from ceiling to floor in the most amazing plant life.

It was like walking right into the middle of a tropical forest or, perhaps, one of the more lush greenhouses that they used for herbology. Looking down, I noticed that the floor underneath my feet wasn't stone like that in the hallway I had just entered from, but a rich soil with a thick layer of undergrowth, and looking up I could see patches of blue sky with bits of sunlight shining through the thick canopy of some exotic looking trees. There were all sorts of flowers of the most vivid shades of red and orange and yellow, and just about any other color you could imagine, the likes of which I had never seen before.

Staring around in awe and wondering what this amazing room was doing in the middle of the 'lost corridor,' I belatedly realized that not only plants were in the room, but also animals. I could see them; small, dark shapes shifting in and out of the trees or hiding amongst the bushes. Thinking back to some of my more 'interesting' Care of Magical Creatures lessons, I quickly made up my mind that perhaps I should leave before I found out exactly what creatures that room contained.

Walking back out into the hallway and closing the door to the 'jungle room' behind me, I withdrew my wand from the pocket of my robe, preparing for whatever might be in the next room I would enter. Continuing along the hall, I came to the next door along the line, this one on the right side of the corridor, though I quickly came to the decision to pass it by. It was rather small and round in shape and, although I wasn't quite sure why, it reminded me of Alice in Wonderland. "I'd rather not go down the rabbit hole, thank you very much," I whispered to myself as I continued on, though I realized that, in a way, the whole wizarding world was very much like "Wonderland" to me, even after having spent five years in it.

The next door was even stranger than the one I had just passed by. It was rather large and fairly wide with beautiful copper colored molding lining it. The door itself was a mosaic of what appeared to be a mixture of glass of all different shapes and colors along with small bits of broken mirror. It was a highly reflective surface and seemed to radiate a certain..._something_, though I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. It appeared as if it was all lit up, but, looking around, I could find no source of light which would make it shine so; I settled for the conclusion that it must be caused by an enchantment of some sort.

It was breathtaking and I was somewhat in a daze as I slowly reached a hand out for the copper plated doorknob before hesitantly opening the door. The sight that greeted me came as somewhat of a shock, just as the sight of the first room had, although this time it was the simplicity of the room that I found so out of place. For, although the door had looked as if it was fit for a palace or something of the sort, the room that lay beyond was almost disappointingly bare and average, except for a large, gilded mirror which rested along the opposite wall.

The mirror, though, captured my interest as soon as I laid eyes on it. It reminded me of the Mirror of Erised and for a moment I thought that it was, but as I stepped closer I noticed a few small differences. For one thing, this mirror was a bit larger than the Mirror of Erised and seemed far older, almost ancient, though it was in perfectly good shape. There was just something about it...

Moving to where I should be able to see myself in the mirror, I noticed that it didn't reflect my image. After my encounter with the Mirror of Erised, I had expected no less and so was unsurprised by this fact. I continued to stare at the mirror, wondering how long it would take for it to work, whatever it was that it did. When it remained copiously blank after a few more seconds, I let out a disappointed sigh before noticing an inscription engraved at the top. 'MUS PIET EC SON'(1) it read, though I wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean. Well, that was no help.

Deciding that the room must be nothing more than a fancy place to store a broken, old mirror, I was about to turn and leave when I suddenly noticed something odd. The mirror's surface was beginning to swirl and spiral as the image of the room it had been reflecting began to fade into another image.

It looked like the Forbidden Forest...and was that the quidditch pitch? I watched, intrigued, as the quidditch field slowly came into focus, the Forbidden Forest visible in the background. It appeared as if someone was walking to the broom shed, where the quidditch supplies were kept, though it was hard to tell much because everything looked so small in the mirror. It looked almost as if I was viewing the scene from a bird's view, though I couldn't quite be sure.

I moved closer to the image, trying to decipher what it could mean and why the mirror would be showing it to me. Studying the small figure that I assumed to be a student returning from quidditch practice, I absently raised a finger to trace the person's progress across the grounds.

But as soon as I touched the surface of the mirror, I could tell that something was most definitely wrong. For some reason the mirror felt as if it was made of liquid, a thick silvery goo. I tried to draw my finger away at the odd, somewhat disturbing realization, but found that I couldn't. Perhaps glue would have been a better description of the substance, for my finger was stuck and no matter how hard I pulled, I could not get the liquid to let go of me. I tried to pry my finger off, but as I went to grab something to use as leverage, I ended up sticking my other hand into the gooey surface of the mirror, getting _it_ stuck as well.

I was really beginning to panic now. No one knew I was down here; no one would ever be able to find me if I couldn't get myself free! And I wasn't even able to use my wand now because both hands were 'glued' to the mirror. I was starting to feel quite desperate as I continued to attempt to yank my hands out to no avail. And to my horror, it even appeared as if the goo was pulling me in farther!

It was like quicksand, and I found myself unable to resist its pull. The more I struggled, the worse it got, though I didn't know what else I could do. It was covering a good deal of my left arm by now, almost to my elbow, and it had already crept halfway up my right forearm. My heart was beating frantically in my chest as I began to almost sob in frustration, wondering why I didn't just turn around and leave when I'd had the chance.

It was crawling closer now...slowly it drew me in until my arms were both completely entrapped. It was pulling me...further...nearer...until it begin to cover my neck. Helpless tears were flowing down my cheeks by now as I drew closer and closer to my impending doom. It wouldn't be long now before I was completely swallowed up...

I was suddenly completely ensconced in the thick liquid and for one horrifying split second, I feared that I was about to die. But just asquickly as the thought had come to me, I found myselfcatapulted onto a hard, though somewhat squishy surface somewhere...on the other side of the mirror. But that couldn't be right, could it?

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, this is kind of weird, I know. I felt like writing a Tom/Harry fic, though, and I had to find some way to get them together. So basically, Harry was just thrown into the past and is going to be spending time with Tom Riddle and getting to know him, etc. Anyways, I hope you liked it so far. I don't know how often I'll be updating (I have quite a few other stories I should be working on), but I will do so eventually. 

1) 'MUS PIET EC SON' isthe phrase 'Noscete Ipsum'spelled backwardswith the spacing mixed up(likewith the Mirror of Erised.) The phrase is the more correct Latin translation of 'Know Thyself,' which most of you will probably recognize from The Matrix.


	2. An Interesting Discovery

Summary: It's not every day that someone discovers a new corridor in Hogwarts. When Harry does, he lets his curiousity get the best of him winds up in a lot of trouble, not to mention another time. Can he survive attending Hogwarts in the year 1942 with a sixteen year old Tom Riddle? And how will this encounter change the fates of both boys? HP/TR SLASH

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I do not own Harry Potter or anything even remotely affiliated with it.

A/N: The chapter has been edited for minor spelling/grammar errors.

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CHAPTER TWO: AN INTERESTING DISCOVERY

--(A/N: This chapter is written from Tom's point of view.)--

Why is it that everything has to happen in threes? No, I take that back; it's only the things that you really _don't_ want to happen in the first place that keep reoccurring, coming back to bite you in the butt over and over again. I swear I must be cursed or something. Perhaps that bastard Riley Weasley jinxed me--Wait a minute, what am I talking about? That inept Gryffindor couldn't curse a rat to save his life, let alone someone with superior magical powers such as myself. Perhaps I broke a mirror, or stepped under a ladder or--Great Merlin! I sound like some inferior superstitious muggle!

Muttering a string of curses under my breath aimed at no one in particular, I continue to walk swiftly down the hall and towards the library where I spend much of my time. Perhaps I can get in a good hour of 'research' before I have to head out to quidditch practice. Of course, by research I mean looking up more about Salazar Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets. I can't believe I still haven't been able to find out where that damn thing is.

I'm so lost in my musings that I bump into someone in the hallway who happens to be headed in the opposite direction as myself. I glare at the insidious little first or second year and they cower, squeaking out a fright induced sorry, before scampering off, though not before I take note of the Hufflepuff insignia sewn onto the front of their school robe. Damn Hufflepuffs, cowards the whole lot of them.

With that thought I continue on route to the library running over my mental tally of 'things gone wrong' so far today. First there was Transfigurations where that twinkly-eyed, know-it-all, nuisance Dumbledore had the audacity to reprimand me for chewing Collins out after he tried to sabotage my project. Then there was potions where someone actually _did _sabotage my project. (Note to self: get back at Longbottom for ruined potion.) And then, to make matters worse, that lunatic Lobelia Lovegood all but stated my plans for world domination; thank god hardly anyone takes her seriously!

I slam open the double doors to the library, ignoring Mrs. Stern as she glares at me when the doors clank shut loudly and disturb the quiet air of the only place I consider a sanctuary in this damn Gryffindor run school besides the Slytherin dungeons. I mechanically make my way to the far back corner, hidden from sight unless you know where you're going, my feet making the journey without me having to even think about where I'm going because I have come here so often.

I throw my book bag onto the floor next to my usual work table before heading towards the History of Hogwarts section where information about the school and its founders is kept. I automatically head towards the S portion where the books authored by Slytherin, Salazar are kept. Although I've been reading anything and everything he's written for weeks now, there are many more books I have yet to read, for I haven't come across the information I've been searching for, namely the location of the Chamber of Secrets and how to enter said chamber. Ever since I found out about my _true_ heritage I've been trying to learn as much as I can about it, though not to much avail.

To think that the heir of the greatest founder didn't know about the wizarding world until he was eleven, let alone his heritage; it's preposterous! All this time, they knew I was staying at that horrible muggle orphanage and yet they did nothing about it. In fact, they are still doing nothing about it! Every single summer they send me back to that damn hellhole. But no matter, they'll see their mistake before the end. Yes, they'll see, whether they want to or not.

The thought of my eminent revenge brings a twisted half smile to my hardened features as I skim my finger over the spines of countless books before finally settling on a small, very old looking text covered in worn green dragon hide and lacking a title. There's something about it that makes me pause; it's almost as if the book is calling to me to pick it up and uncover all of its long forgotten secrets. It sounds somewhat silly, but in the magical world, you never truly know; perhaps the book really _was_ calling out to me.

My interest piqued, I carefully extracted the text from its neighbors, skimming my hand along the expensive outer covering before cracking the book open to have a peek inside. The first page is blank, a plain piece of faded yellowish colored parchment embossed in silver at its edges. I quickly flip it over and am shocked by what I uncover. In an elegant hand the words "The Secrets of Slytherin" are embossed along with a glistening silver snake drawn laboriously below. I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat as I took this in. This was it! This was what I had been searching for all along!

My hand shaking slightly in anticipation, I reverently turned the page and once again became enthralled by the refined, spiraling scripture.

_To my dear decedents,_

_If you are reading this account of my life, then it means that you are of my lineage and therefore my heir. None but my true heirs can read this book for it is in the parseltongue for which I am renowned and is gifted henceforth to none but my bloodline, of that I have made sure. There is much contained within this journal which has been kept secret from any and all save those of my line. In order to keep it so, this is the only written account of all that I expect of my heirs and all else written in plain English is but a façade for the eyes of the public and the ministry which have forsaken me. Should anything herein contained be released to the wizarding world, it would carry dire consequences for all of my bloodline and for the Slytherin house which I have founded for purposes which will be further explained at another point in this book. As my heir I expect you to know how imperative it is to keep this record hidden, even though there are none who can read it but you and any other decedents of mine. Keep these secrets well and fulfill that which I cannot in my stead. _

_The sire of your bloodline,_

_Salazar Xavier Slytherin_

I stood there for a moment, stunned by my most fortunate discovery. I looked around warily, paranoid that someone would discover me before muttering a hasty anti-detection charm of my own making and stashing the book of my ancestor in a hidden inner pocket of my robe. Grabbing a random book off of another shelf and checking the title, The Age of Enlightenment: An Account of the Hogwarts Founders, to make sure that it was nothing Mrs. Stern should be suspicious of, I went back to my study corner to grab my book bag before heading to the checkout counter.

Taking a few slow, steady breathes to slow my rapidly beating heart, I walked at my usual pace up to the front desk of the library, my face as impassive and unreadable as ever. Mrs. Stern gave me a sharp look from behind her too small spectacles that pinched the bridge of her nose, though this was nothing to be concerned of, just her typical behavior. She was probably still somewhat peeved over the disturbance I had caused upon my arrival. Nevertheless, she ran her wand over the front of the book with practiced efficiency and wrote my name along with the title of the book on the checkout list before handing back the rather heavy tomb.

"As always, Mr. Riddle, the book is due back in two weeks' time. I expect it to be returned in the same condition as it is now or there will be points docked. I don't want there to be any water marks on it. Those took me a whole hour to remove the last time it happened," the staunch librarian recites. I just nod my head, trying to keepmy irritation from showing.I amwell used tothis particulartirade of hers by now; after all, she has been chastisingme about the water marks ever since 2nd year when I was unfortunate enough to have that incompetent fool Crabbe spill all overmy book during lunch. Stiffly,I spun around onmy heel after her spiel had ended and marched towards the exit, intending to dropmy things off atmy dorm room before heading to quidditch practice.

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Well, my theory that bad things happen in threes has just been blown to pieces. Quidditch didn't go much better than the rest of my day did, excluding the fact that I found Salazar Slytherins journal in the library today.

Our new seeker Damien Black couldn't catch a snitch if it hit him square on the nose. I really don't understand why Malfoy had to choose a second year who can barely achieve passing marks in flying lessons to be the key player on the team. If we lose the quidditch cup to Gryffindor again this year...well, heads are going to roll.

Afraid that I would throttle the little pipsqueak Black if I should have to face him in the locker room or broom shed after his horrible display of incompetency on the field, I decided to take a little time after practice to cool off by making a couple extra laps around the pitch. I needed to get used to the feel of flying again after going a whole summer without mounting a broomstick anyway.

I took a little longer than I'd intended, about 45 minutes instead 15, but it was nice to just be able to unwind after everything that'd happened so far today. And it gave me a bit of time to dwell on my discovery in the library. It brought a smile onto my face, not the goofy kind those Gryffindor goons are always wearing plastered on their faces, but more like a very satisfied, smug smirk, quite suited for a Slytherin if I say so myself.

Deciding that I'd wasted enough time already and eager to get back to the book which I had securely sealed in a secret compartment of my heavily warded trunk, I flew leisurely to the ground before dismounting, stretching a bit and heading for the broom shed. After putting my broom away and deciding that I would rather just shower in the dungeons instead of the locker room, I made my way swiftly back to the castle, cutting across the lush green grass and letting the wind cool me off as it gently whipped my forest green quidditch robes about me.

Perhaps today wasn't so bad after all, I decided, as I inhaled the sweet smell of freshly cut grass offset by the cool, crisp air signaling the onset of winter. It wasn't even October yet and it was already getting rather cold outside. Not that I minded the cold or anything...

My musings were cut short as I heard a loud thump off to my right. What could it be and how could I have not sensed it before now? I was usually so alert and attentive. My instinctual reaction had been to grab my wand, a habit that had been incorporated by many hours worth of patient drilling. Instantly my senses went on high alert and I spun around with my wand arm outstretched towards the spot where I had heard the noise issue from.

What I saw surprised me, to say the least. I don't know what I had been expecting exactly, but a boy of about my age lying face down in the grass certainly wasn't it. Warily I lowered my wand a fraction, not really feeling threatened anymore and yet still feeling a need for caution. Where on earth did this boy come from and what was he doing here?

I slowly approached him, starting slightly as he stirred. Then he lifted his head, looking somewhat dazed before turning confused eyes, shockingly green in color, towards my own duller green orbs. And as we stood there silently scrutinizing each other his confusion slowly shifted to shock, then horror.

I could do nothing but stare back at him, my eyebrows furrowed in thought as I wondered what had caused this mysterious raven haired boy to look at me with fright and pondered whether, perhaps, my streak of bad luck had not dissipated yet as I had earlier presumed.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I know that this chapter is a bit different than the first one, not as much humor and...I don't know. This is just kind of what came to me. I'll be switching back and forth between Harry and Tom's point of views. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter probably won't be out for a while. As always, feel free to email me with any questions or comments or leave them in a review. 

Responses to those who reviewed the first chapter have been taken down in compliance with FF's new rules against putting answers to reviews at the end of stories. Sorry!


	3. From Bad to Worse

Summary: It's not every day that someone discovers a new corridor in Hogwarts. When Harry does, he lets his curiosity get the best of him winds up in a lot of trouble, not to mention another time. Can he survive attending Hogwarts in the year 1942 with a sixteen year old Tom Riddle? And how will this encounter change the fates of both boys? HP/TR SLASH

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I do not own Harry Potter or anything even remotely affiliated with it.

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CHAPTER THREE: FROM BAD TO WORSE

--(A/N: This chapter is from Harry's point of view.)--

What on earth? I suddenly found myself with a face full of what I could only assume to be grass. Where the hell was I and how the hell did I get here? One minute I'm looking into some mysterious mirror in a corridor I never knew existed and then next thing I know I'm being attacked by silver mirror goop. I thought I was going to suffocate to death. Could this be heaven...?

I'm still somewhat dazed from being hurtled through the mirror to...well, wherever I am now. The sudden sound of what seems to be footsteps jars me back to reality as I wonder who or what could be approaching. I manage to lift my head slowly, somewhat apprehensive of what I will find. It takes a second for everything to come into focus, but when it does I realize that I'm staring at the feet of a person standing a few feet away from me. I slowly let my eyes travel up to the person's face, taking note of the wand loosely clutched in one hand.

I just lie there for a moment staring blankly at the person's face as I wonder once again where on earth I could be--somewhere in the wizarding world apparently--before the realization that I recognize the face before me sinks in and my features slowly take on a look of shock. You would think that this recognition would bring me some comfort in my current predicament (how do I always end up finding myself in situations like this?), and it would if it were nearly any other face but the one in front of me.

Horror slowly crept upon me as it dawned on me that I was staring at none other than Tom Riddle, or at the very least a Tom Riddle look alike. My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened with horror, but I could do nothing beyond that. My blood ran cold and my mouth went dry as my mind raced. Wasn't he supposed to be dead? I killed him in second year--no, I killed his diary reincarnation...but then where did this one come from? Voldemort's not dead yet, but he's an ugly, snake faced, half human thing...and if this was really Voldemort then why hasn't he killed me yet?

I knew I should take out my wand or at least do _something _other than just sitting here gaping like a fish, but...he wasn't even aiming his wand at me...what the _hell _is going on here! I felt like banging my head against the ground, but the grass was too cushy and it didn't seem like a very productive thing to do anyway, though it might help knock some sort of sense back into me. _Did I bump my head upon my arrival here?_ That might explain all of this. Maybe this 'Tom Riddle' standing in front of me was just a hallucination. Or, maybe, this whole thing was just some weird trick of the mirror, or some alternate universe. Or I could have hit my head harder than I thought and this was all some horrible nightmare. Yes, that made sense. It _must _be one of those. There was no way that this could be _real_. Could it?

Slowly I began to gather myself up from the grass to stand before what I hoped was only a figment of my imagination. Though if it was, that might mean that I was going crazy...the whole hallucination theory didn't bring me quite so much comfort anymore. I slowly dusted myself off, ridding myself of the bits of grass that had managed to stick to my shirt and pants and absently picked up my Hogwart's robe and invisibility cloak, both of which I had managed to drop in the whole traveling through the mirror ordeal. Hastily, I tucked the cloak underneath my robe, wanting it to remain hidden. You might wonder how I could just go calmly about worrying over my appearance at a time like this, but in this whole surreal, unnerving situation, the sense of normality that the simple action brought me was somewhat welcome. And I couldn't think of anything better to do at the time...so, yeah.

Having picked every bit of grass off of myself that I could find I slowly lifted my gaze back up, hoping that the 'Tom Riddle' that had been standing in front of me might have magically disappeared. Unfortunately, it wasn't so. We stood there staring at each other for a moment, me having to tilt my head back a bit due to the fact that he was a good few inches taller than me, though neither of us seemed to be able to find the words to speak.

Finally, he broke the somewhat awkward silence. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he spoke in a firm, straightforward manner. He stared coldly at me as I frantically searched for something I could say in response.

"Umm...I..." I began, trying to buy myself a bit of time as I thought. He obviously didn't know who I was and it's not like I was going to come straight out and tell him. I needed a name, and quickly. I could probably still use my first name; Harry was pretty common after all, but perhaps I should be on the safe side. What could I use...well, my father's name was James and it's my middle name too, but no, it would be too obvious. And I certainly couldn't use my mother's name...but maybe her last name would work. Evans could be turned into Evan. Perfect. But as for my last name...Potter certainly wouldn't do, and I couldn't be Evan Evans...I know! It can be Jameson. James' son. Ha-ha! Perfect! I'll be Evan Jameson. "My name is Evan Jameson," I declared to 'Riddle,' who had been glaring at me impatiently during my search for a suitable name.

Now for the second part of the question...how could I answer that? Hell, _I_ didn't even know what I was doing here, so how could I possibly explain it to someone else? Well, I suppose I could just make something up...I could have apparated here somehow, though I wasn't even old enough to get my license yet...Looking around as I scrambled for an answer I suddenly came to the startling realization that I was at Hogwarts, near the quidditch pitch. I must have fallen through the mirror and to what I was gazing at before I was sucked in! Well, the whole apparation thing wouldn't have worked then anyway; the only way you could get onto Hogwarts grounds was by floo or portkey. Ha! That was it! "I portkeyed here," I added in response to 'Riddle.' He raised an eyebrow as if to prompt me to elaborate. Hmm...for what purpose could I be here? Well, who could help me sort out this mess? I know..."I'm here to see Professor Dumbledore," I finished. Surely _he _would know what to do.

'Riddle' looked at me in a scrutinizing manner; as if he didn't believe I was telling the truth, or at least not all of it. "You've come to see Dumbledore," he repeated in an almost disbelieving manner. "For what purpose have you come to see him?" he questioned, obviously testing me.

"That's between him and me and none of your business," I replied as evenly as I could, trying to sound affronted by his obvious distrust. "And who exactly are you?" I decided to add, pretending that I didn't already know and hoping that I wouldn't get the answer that I thought I would.

"My name is Tom Riddle," he informed me truthfully before changing the subject, "I assume Dumbledore is expecting you. I'll take you to his office." With that he spun around on his heels, his dark green quidditch robes, which I hadn't noticed he was wearing up until now, swishing as he stalked off.

I followed him reluctantly, still feeling somewhat confused by the whole situation. If this was a dream I could only hope that I would wake from it soon. Deciding that I should, perhaps, test my theory of this whole surreal experience being a dream I hesitantly rolled up the left sleeve of the long sleeved shirt I was wearing and pinched the exposed skin. It hurt. Damn.

So this wasn't a dream. But that still didn't exclude my many other theories. And since I really didn't have anything else I could think to do in this situation, I followed demurely after 'Riddle' as he led me inside the large double doors that served as entry to the castle.

We continued along through the entry way passing by a few people who were obviously students. I didn't recognize any of them, though this fact didn't wholly surprise me. 'Riddle' didn't speak to any of them as he began up the large stone steps towards the upper levels, though seeing as none of the students we had come across so far had been wearing Slytherin badges this fact, too, didn't surprise me.

I just kept walking, following the 16 year old form of a man (if you could call Voldemort that) I had been at war with my entire life. I did so with the air of one who accepts what they see only because they expect to wake up, though I now knew that this was no dream. It might as well have been though, for all the credit I gave this whole thing as being real.

I let my gaze wander as I walked, my feet knowing the way automatically from years of experience. Everything looked so...familiar. It all felt so...so much like Hogwarts, so real. Yet I couldn't for one second allow myself to believe that it was. It simply _couldn't_ be.

We continued up to the fourth floor, where 'Riddle' took a right heading towards where I knew the transfiguration classroom and McGonagall's office to be. Hadn't he said he would lead me to Dumbledore's office? But that was on the fifth floor...unless...unless Dumbledore wasn't the headmaster. The sudden realization hit me that he was leading me to what I knew to be McGonagall's office, which must have been Dumbledore's office back when Tom Riddle was going to school--Dumbledore _had_ been thetransfigurations teacher back then, now that I thought about it.

It was like when I had been in Tom Riddle's diary back in second year, only this time I was really here--sort of--instead of merely an unobtrusive observer of past events. So...what exactly was going on then? It was like the mirror had sent me back in time to when Riddle had been in school. But it couldn't _really _have, could it? This must be some sort of virtual reality. But the thought that I truly could have been sent back in time and that this was all very much real had wiggled its way into my mind and I couldn't dispel it no matter how much I tried to convince myself that it couldn't be so. My hands began to shake slightly as I mechanically continued onwards.

Finally, we made it to McGonagall's--no, _Dumbledore's_ office. Riddle stopped outside of the wide open door before knocking politely on the doorframe to alert the Professor to his presence, though he had no doubt already sensed it. I stood back, out of sight, against the wall as I listened to Dumbledore's familiar voice respond. "Why, hello Mr. Riddle. Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked jovially. I could just imagine the sparkle he would most certainly have in his eye as said that.

"There's someone here to see you. He said you were expecting him," Riddle said in reply, lifting a hand to gesture in my direction.

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked bemusedly, seeming a bit surprised, though pleasantly so, by the news. "Well, by all means, tellhim to come in," he spoke pleasantly in invitation.

I took a deep breath before stepping hesitantly, though I'm not quite sure why, into the doorframe. I stood there for a moment taking in this younger looking Dumbledore with reddish colored hair before entering and coming to stand before his gadget topped desk. He must have been shocked or at least perplexed by the appearance of someone he had never seen before (or at least not in this time), though he hid it well. "Do sit down, my boy," he spoke kindly to me, gesturing to one of the plush, velvet covered armchairs that faced his desk. I sat down as Dumbledore then turned to address Riddle. "You may be excused now, Mr. Riddle. I thank you for your assistance," he said graciously, effectively dismissing Riddle, who looked back curiously at me before heading off.

Dumbledore turned his attention back to me then, steepling his fingers and leaning back in his larger, cushy chair as he analyzed me with a quite noticeable twinkle in his eyes as he absently put a silencing charm on the room. "Well, now," he began, his voice still kind though somewhat perplexed, "I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea who you might be." He let out a bit of a chuckle at that announcement, as if he found the whole thing to be rather amusing. Although he looked different in this time he seemed to act no differently than the Dumbledore that I know. I couldn't help but find this fact rather reassuring.

"Well, my name is Evan Jameson," I began, using the alias I had given Riddle, "and I'm afraid I have no idea how I got here." There, I had said it.

Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow questioningly at my words, before steepling his fingers again in thought. "Hmm...that is very interesting now...Mr. Jameson," he spoke, the pause before my fake name, letting me know that he had been able to see right through my lie, though I should have expected no less. He glanced at the Hogwarts robe I still held draped over my arm before continuing, "I assume there is more to the tale than simply that. If you don't mind my asking, how did you come about a Hogwarts robe? I believe I would know if you were a student here. Do you perhaps know someone who goes here?" he questioned me good naturedly.

I faltered. How would I be able to explain the robe? I can't lie to Dumbledore; he would know right away that I'm not being truthful. Then, perhaps the best thing to do would be to tell him the truth. Yes, that way he might be able to help me. My mind made up, I began to recount him with the tale of how I had gotten here, starting with the fact that I was from the future and that my real name was Harry Potter and then telling of my odd discovery of the mysterious corridor and continuing from there until present (which was, technically, as far as I could tell, the past).

He sat there quietly until I had finished, taking everything in as if he had heard many such accounts. I waited patiently for some sort of response from him. He took a few moments, obviously going through everything in his mind and trying to work out the best solution to the predicament, as he sat there absently stroking his lengthy beard. "Well, I can see that we have a bit of a problem," he intoned eventually, stating something which I thought to be rather obvious, in his wise and knowing voice. I couldn't help but let out a slight scoff as I heard the term 'bit of a problem.' It was a pretty damn big problem in my mind. I kept that thought to myself, though, as I waited for him to continue. "I'm afraid I see no way to return you to your proper time, Mr. Potter--though perhaps I should call you Mr. Jameson while you're here. Seeing as how we have no idea how you got here in the first place and we don't have a spell to return you to the future, I suppose you shall just have to stay here, in this time, and make the best of it."

I sat there, stunned, as the words Dumbledore had just spoken slowly sank in. I felt like laughing hysterically. Perhaps I really _had _lost my mind, because this could so _not _be happening. Dumbledore was supposed to be able to fix this damned mess, not sit here and tell me to 'make the best of it.' What did he expect me to do, live out the rest of my life here! Yet I couldn't really blame him for this mess. After all, it was all my fault.

Damn my insatiable curiosity! Now I had gone and gotten myself into a situation I couldn't get out of. I felt like banging my head against the desk in front of me, or ripping my hair out, or at the very least screaming at the top of my lungs in frustration. But, seeing as none of those things would make the situation any better, although they might make me _feel _a little better, I managed to refrain myself, settling for hyperventilating instead. Damn it. Damn it all! What the hell was I supposed to do now?

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, another chapter is complete. If you hadn't noticed, this one is considerably longer than the other two, a fact which I am rather proud of. (Don't expect all of the chapters to necessarily be this long, though.) Anyways, you get to see Harry's reaction to Tom in this chapter, which I hope satisfied all of you dear readers out there. I'm thinking about doing the next chapter from Dumbledore's perspective as he comes up with a plan for Harry to become a student at Hogwarts and makes all of the arrangements for it. Tell me what you think, please, if you have any opinion on that idea. Thank you to everyone who reads this fic and especially to those of you who have reviewed!

Review responses have been removed due to FF's new rule against them. Sorry.


	4. Times Change, People Change

Summary: It's not every day that someone discovers a new corridor in Hogwarts. When Harry does, he lets his curiosity get the best of him winds up in a lot of trouble, not to mention another time. Can he survive attending Hogwarts in the year 1942 with a sixteen year old Tom Riddle? And how will this encounter change the fates of both boys? HP/TR SLASH

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I do not own Harry Potter or anything even remotely affiliated with it.

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CHAPTER FOUR: TIMES CHANGE, PEOPLE CHANGE

--(A/N: This chapter is from Dumbledore's point of view.)--

I watch placidly as the boy in front of me, fallen out of a mirror from a future time (only at Hogwarts could such a thing happen), digests the fact that I have no clue as to how I can help him return to the time that he is supposed to be in. But perhaps that is the key.

Perhaps this boy--Harry Potter as he calls himself--is _meant_ to be here. Hogwarts works in mysterious ways and has many times managed to meddle in the affairs of the wizards who dwell in it. It makes me wonder if, perhaps, the sorting hat isn't the only inanimate object that the founders enchanted to have a mind of its own.

I am bemused by the thought and a small, quirky smile makes its way onto my aging features, though it quickly disappears as I watch Harry clench the arms of his chair until his knuckles turn white in apparent frustration. He lets out a loud, irritated sigh that comes out almost as a silent scream before proceeding to let his head drop forcefully onto the back of his chair. Closing his eyes he takes a few deep, calming breaths before he sits up, eyes open, and seemingly back in control of himself and his composure.

He looks me square in the eye, not bothering to be intimidated by the fact that I am an older, well admired wizard and a professor at this school. I respect him for it. "What exactly do you propose I do?" he asks of me then, coming straight to the heart of the matter.

Although I have no idea how on earth to get him home, I do have an idea of what he can do in the mean time. "Why, you are going to enroll as a student, of course," I answer enthusiastically and with more than a slight bit of amusement. Of course, it isn't nearly as simple as I would make it sound, but it is the general gist of my plan.

I was hoping for some sort of reaction from the boy, whatever it may be, but he merely sits there expectantly as if waiting for the othershoe to drop. "Let's see…we must come up with a plausible reason why you would be starting here at your age and part way through the school year…and you shall have to be sorted…and of course there's the--wait, what year are you supposed to be in?" I think out loud to him as my plan starts to come together.

"I was in sixth year," he replies automatically before his face is creased by a slight frown and he goes on, "What do you mean I have to be sorted?" Ah, so that's what's troubling him.

"Don't worry, my boy. You must, naturally, be sorted again to go along with the story as to why you are here. We wouldn't want anyone getting suspicious, now would we? I'm sure you'll end up in the same house you were in before. Don't forget, though, that things might not be the same, even with that which you would assume would be unchanged by the passage of time," I inform him wisely (if I do say so myself), before adding, "And Mr. Riddle, who accompanied you here is also in his sixth year, so at least you shall know someone."

Somehow he doesn't seem at all comforted by that fact, which I find somewhat odd. There is something about this boy that strikes me as…unique, special, magnificent…I don't know what it is, but it's there. There must be some reason why he is here, some purpose for this landmark event. But it does me no good to dwell on such things now when there is still so much that needs to be arranged.

Turning towards the young man in front of me I pause, wondering when would be the best time to introduce him to the rest of the students. Well, dinner was to be served in a little over an hour; I suppose that would be the best time to make the introductions, and then, of course, there was the sorting that would need to be done at the same time. But first, there was the matter of a plausible history for the boy to consider.

Of course, at the moment times are very dark. With Grindelwald at the height of his power and World War II raging, both the wizarding and muggle worlds are in a state of chaos and fear. It would be easy to explain Harry's absence from Hogwarts up to this point by saying that his family was forced into hiding, but then what would be the reasoning behind his appearance now? Perhaps his parents were killed and he had no where else to go...Merlin knows there are enough other students in that exact predicament. And that way if anyone asks him any questions that he does not know how to answer, he could simply say that it was too painful for him to talk about. Yes, that would have to do.

It didn't take long to explain my plan to Harry. We discussed what classes he had been taking before and other concerns such as making sure that he knows what the correct date is and other necessary things to make sure he can pass for a student of this time. He seemed to take everything in stride and knows enough about the war (from his History of Magic class no doubt) to be able to pass himself off as a current student fairly easily it would seem. His lack of knowledge on some accounts can be readily written off as his being out of touch with the wizarding world from his annexation. He is a smart boy, really, from what I can tell so far (and I'm a pretty good judge of such things if I do say so myself), so I am fairly confident in his ability to fit in without suspicion.

"Now there is just the minor problem of explaining this all to Headmaster Dippet," I informed 'Mr. Jameson,' as I would have to call him from now on. He nodded his understanding of the statement and we both stood from our chairs to head to the headmaster's office.

We didn't talk much along the way, though it was a companionable silence. I could tell that the boy was deep in thought--probably trying to engrain all of the new information he would need to remember into his mind--and so I tried not to disturb him. The portraits watched us as we walked along, whispering rather loudly amongst themselves about this "strange new arrival" to the castle, though Harry paid them no mind.

We soon arrived in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the way to the head's office and Harry immediately seemed to come back to his senses. It took me a moment to remember the password, Eunice Murray in honor of the seeker for the Monstrose Magpies (they are Armando's favorite team) that died earlier this month. Giving it to the gargoyle, we waited for the statue to open and reveal the passage, then stepped inside and onto the spiraling staircase which lifted us effortlessly up two flights before depositing us on the landing in front of the great oak door of Dippet's office.

I turned to Harry and gave him a small, encouraging smile before proceeding to knock lightly on the door. A voice from within issued forth, welcoming us into the room, and I opened the door, letting Harry step inside first, before coming in myself.

Armando seemed surprised by the unfamiliar visitor standing before him, and a little bit troubled as well. He turned to me for some sort of an explanation, raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner and knowing that I would get the hint.

"As you can see, Armando, we have a new student here to join us," I began. The eyebrow merely rose a fraction more at my less than adequate explanation, and I smiled good-naturedly before continuing, "His name is Evan Jameson and he has been in hiding for the past six years. His mother attended Bauxbatons from what I've been told and his father was a muggle. Unfortunately, they are both casualties of the war and have left Mr. Jameson with no where else to go besides here, seeing as how he has no other living relatives who might take him in."

Dippet accepted this explanation, nodding quietly in acknowledgement of the news and looking saddened by the reminder of the atrocities taking place outside of these relatively sheltered walls. "I see," he spoke at last, seemingly deep in thought, "I assume Mr. Jameson has been schooled at home thus far...he may join whichever year's level he is at. He will, of course, need to be sorted. If you would be so kind as to take care of that Albus, along with any of his other needs..." he trailed off, looking questioningly at me.

"I would be happy to take care of the arrangements. I plan on having him sorted first thing, at dinner tonight. He shall be needing books and robes and the like, which I will be sure to supply him with first thing in the morning, along with his schedule," I offered, right on top of things. Dippet nodded at this, seeming pleased with the solution I had provided.

"Very well, he shall be sorted tonight after I give a speech to the rest of the school," he spoke solemnly before turning to 'Mr. Jameson,' "Welcome to Hogwarts, my boy," he spoke with a slight smile before dismissing us both to leave.

We turned and exited the room quietly, letting the headmaster get back to whatever important business he had been attending to before our unexpected arrival, shutting the door quietly behind us as we left. We stepped back onto the revolving stairs, and Harry took the time to put his Hogwarts robe on, making sure to remove the Gryffindor emblem embroidered on the breast with a simple charm, though not before I had taken note of it.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped back out to the hallway, with the gargoyle shutting swiftly behind us, I took the opportunity to check the time, taking out my rather elaborate pocket watch from the inner pocket of my highly fashionable (or so I'd like to think) cerulean colored robes. Adjusting the half moon spectacles that sit upon the bridge of my rather crooked nose, I gazed for a moment at the watch, before declaring with pleasant surprise to my companion that it is nearly time for us to make our way to the dining hall.

Setting a brisk pace, I quickly led 'Evan' down by way of secret passage to a room just off of the great hall where I would have him wait until it was time for his sorting. I watched as he sat down in one of the rich, crimson colored armchairs before the grand fireplace before hurriedly making my way back up to my office to grab the sorting hat from its place on one of my many shelves. I do hope that the hat had time to make up a song; they really are quite clever.

I made good time in getting to my office, using one of the many hidden corridors (this one behind a tapestry on the second floor) to shorten the trip a bit. I stepped inside, smiling as some of the gadgets on my desk began to whirl at my arrival, before making my way to the overstuffed bookcase that rested against the wall behind my desk. The sorting hat lay at about eye level on a colorful, embroidered cushion on the fourth shelf up. It seemed to grumble as I approached, though it is rather hard to tell with hats, and seemed none too pleased at being disturbed so soon after the last sorting.

"Come now," I spoke consolingly to it as I let out a slight chuckle, "it must get rather boring sitting up here on my shelf all year round except for one day. And I should hope that you were able to make up a song at such quick notice; you know, I rather enjoy them," I confided in the hat, hoping to improve its mood. I'm sure that if it were possible, the hat would have rolled its eyes, but it did seem pleased none the less.

Gathering first the three legged stool in the corner of the room, I returned to the hat and picked it up carefully from its resting place. The feast would soon be starting, if in fact it had not already begun, so I would need to hurry down to the room in which I left 'Evan.'

I took the secret passage route once again and managed to make my way to the room adjoining the great hall just as Dippet began his speech. 'Evan' stood as I entered the room and I hurriedly ushered him over to the door, which led out to the teacher's table at the front of the room, as I managed to make out the last of Dippet's explanation regarding the new student, Evan Jameson.

This was our queue. I opened the door with a whoosh that echoed through the hall as the students held their breath in anticipation. The silence ended as I stepped out with 'Evan' trailing behind me. The students went about whispering and pointing, their curiosity peeked. The only one who didn't do so was Mr. Riddle, having already seen the new student a few hours ago. I almost felt sorry for 'Evan,' being put on the spot up here all alone on the stage. But he didn't seem to notice the way everyone was staring and gossiping, or at least he pretended not to.

We finally made our way to the front of the room, standing before the teacher's table with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff ones on either side. I set the somewhat lopsided stool down before placing the sorting hat upon it. The wide rip in the brim of the hat that served as its mouth opened and the hat let out a few light coughs to clear its throat before breaking out into one of its legendary songs.

"An unexpected student  
Joins us partway through the year  
He has no where else to turn to  
But will be quite welcome here

"He is older than the majority  
Of students that I've sorted  
He'll join the ranks of the 6th year  
Or so it's been reported

"He may be a sweet Hufflepuff  
Loyal to the end  
Or perhaps in intelligent Ravenclaw  
Is where he'll find a friend

"Or maybe noble Gryffindor  
Is where he'll find his place  
And last of all sly Slytherin  
If ambition is his trait

"Come now and place me on your head  
So the sorting may commence  
I'll sift your thoughts and search your brain  
To find which house shall suit you best."

It ended its song and became stationary as I announced, "Jameson, Evan," then moved aside and out of the way.

Evan sat down stiffly, almost as if he was a bit nervous what the outcome would be, though he didn't want to let anyone in on that fact. I didn't see any reason for him to be nervous, after all, he had been through this before, but perhaps there was some other reason for his behavior.

The hat sat upon his head for quite some time, falling down just a little bit over his eyes and crinkling its top every once in a while almost as if it was deep in thought. Five minutes passed by and I found myself becoming quite intrigued. I could not remember it ever having taken so long for a student to be sorted...perhaps because he was older than most? I really can't be sure, and it seems that the students are curious now as well; I can hear them whispering loudly amongst themselves as the hat continues to contemplate its decision.

Finally, it straightened up, getting ready to make its announcement. The students quieted down immediately upon noticing this and the hall fell deathly quiet before the resounding voice of the hat let out a shout of "SLYTHERIN!"

I would be lying if I said that I am not surprised. I was quite certain that I had seen a Gryffindor insignia on the front of his robes earlier...surely the houses have not changed with time...so why would he be in Slytherin now when he was in Gryffindor before?

I came back to my senses as I heard the Slytherin table break out into a polite round of applause and watched carefully as Evan made his way towards his new housemates. He didn't seem too surprised by the outcome of the sorting, which I found almost as odd as the outcome itself. There was definitely something unusual about this boy, though I couldn't quite place my finger on what it was just yet.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I hope you liked this chapter okay. I hope I did okay on Dumbledore's POV. I think I'll do Tom's POV again next chapter. Not a lot happened in this chapter, but the next one should be more interesting and eventful. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed the story! I must say that I have been pleasantly surprised by the amount of positive feedback I have gotten for this fic. I would have had this chapter up sooner, but I haven't been able to sign on to my account for awhile because of the upgrades and whatnot to the sight. 

Once again, the review answers for this chapter have been taken down in compliance with FF's rules.


	5. Sleeping with the Enemy

Summary: It's not every day that someone discovers a new corridor in Hogwarts. When Harry does, he lets his curiosity get the best of him winds up in a lot of trouble, not to mention another time. Can he survive attending Hogwarts in the year 1942 with a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle? And how will this encounter change the fates of both boys? HP/TR SLASH

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I do not own Harry Potter or anything even remotely affiliated with it.

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CHAPTER FIVE: SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

--(A/N: This chapter is from Harry's point of view.)--

I cannot say that I am surprised by the sorting hat's decision. It has, after all, always maintained that I would do well in Slytherin, and now…well, I finally am what I have always feared to become. I wish…I wish now that I could go back in time to but a few minutes ago and try to coerce the hat into putting me in a different house--one other than the one which it has chosen for me--as I did back in my first year. But, what's done is done and there is no undoing it now.

I suppose I shall just have to accept the hand I've been dealt, and make the best of it, as I have so many times before. Perhaps the sorting hat is right…perhaps I _will_ do well in Slytherin…perhaps I will make true friends there as it spoke of once before…perhaps in Slytherin I can find a place where I am free to be myself without expectations and prejudices that defined me in my past...the future. I do not trust to hope and I am guarded and wary, but at least here no one knows who I am; they will only be able to judge me based on how I present myself in their eyes…

But enough with this philosophical mumbo-jumbo; it's beginning to give me a headache. This sort of thought is better suited for Dumbledore, and besides, it doesn't really do me any good to dwell on various scenarios that may or may not be true. The point is that I am stuck here in 1942 with no way--as of yet--to get back to where, or rather _when_, I am supposed to be. And I'll just have to deal with that.

I make my way towards my new housemates among a substantial amount of applause--if only they knew who I _truly_ am; I doubt they would be clapping then. I walk somewhat stiffly, holding my head high, knowing that if Iam to be in Slytherin I cannot allow any weakness to show if I wish to be accepted.

I could always attempt to make friends among the other houses, but I doubt that I would find such attempts very rewarding. I can feel the eyes of students from other tables boring into my back, glaring at me now that I have been labeled a 'snake.' Funny that such prejudice should exist even before Voldemort's reign. Maybe this is what turned him evil in the first place, but what would I know?

I make my way to a seat across from the monster that killed my parents and so many others…but I can't make myself hate him as I would hate Voldemort. Before me sits Tom Riddle, not Voldemort…at least not yet.

I stare at him dispassionately as he glances neutrally at me in turn, though I can see it in his eyes that he is sizing me up and is obviously more curious about me now that I am going to be living with him. I can tell that he does not trust me and I am sure that he can see reflected in my eyes my dislike for him. But we do not say anything to each other about the matter, for we are, after all, dorm mates now and it would not do to get off on the wrong foot (though I doubt Riddle knows the extent of my ill feelings towards him; after all, how could he?)

I wish I had somewhere else I could go...but there is nowhere else I can turn to. And what of the mirror? Where else will I be able to unravel the mystery behind my strange arrival but here at Hogwarts Castle?

I let my gaze wander as the food magically appears on trays and plates and platters and every other type of serving dish you can imagine. The Ravenclaws carefully fill their trays before beginning to eat (most of them with a book in one hand), while the Hufflepuffs are busy passing trays around to one another and talking happily amongst themselves. The Gryffindors on the other hand dig in eagerly, piling their plates high with food--well, most of them do anyway. There is a group of about four or five red heads towards the middle of the table that seem to have grabbed the most food out of anyone. I can't help but wonder if they are in some way related to the Weasleys; I wouldn't be surprised.

Breaking off my wistful stare at the jovial red haired bunch, I force my gaze to return to my own table--how odd that I should be calling it that. The Slytherins seem, for the most part, to be absorbed in outperforming the other houses in table manners. It's almost as if they feel they have to prove themselves superior in this manner. They sit straight-backed with napkins on their laps eating with a well practiced aloofness and air of politeness that I'm sure has been drilled into the majority of them since the age of two.

I attempt to mimic their precise motions, managing to at least put on the appearance that I am well refined and cultured--to the casual observer. Too bad these Slytherins are watching my every move and happen to pick up every mistake I make. I'm sure they're wondering who I am, where I come from, why they haven't heard of me or my family before. They probably think I'm some low class nobody who isn't worth a moment of their time. Why on earth did the sorting hat think I would fit in best with these people who are so different from myself?

So very different, and yet...there is one among them who I find myself similar to in so many ways, though the thought alone nearly makes me sick to my stomach. We are both orphans, abandoned to the muggle world where we were neglected and unknowing of the world we truly belonged to until we were old enough to attend school; we both have the gift, or curse depending on which way you look at it, of parseltongue; we both are viewed as something that we are not, held up on a pedestal and never truly seen for what or who we are. Hell, we even look quite a bit alike. But I'm not like him; I refuse to believe that I could ever be like him, like Tom Riddle.

I stab a piece of chicken lying haplessly on my plate viciously with my fork as I attempt to kill the thoughts running rampant through my mind before I remember where I am and what I am supposed to be and am able to regain my composure. I finish cutting my meat placidly as I stare blankly down at my food, trying to avoid eye contact with any of my new housemates. I can feel their calculating eyes upon me, but I ignore them as best as I can, or at least pull off an air of flippancy. I feel like asking them what they are all looking at, why they look at me as if I am some sort of unworthy freak. But I know that I can't and that to do so would be to lose all respectability in their eyes. At least they are not staring at me because of my scar and my reputation of boy-who-lived, 'savior extraordinaire.'

I make it through the meal okay, pretending to listen to various quietly spoken conversations between my housemates while carefully analyzing them. I try to remain unobtrusive and succeed for the most part, though I can tell that Riddle's attention does not waver from me. I notice that he doesn't talk much throughout the meal, not nearly as much as his housemates, and that he seems not to have any friends, though everyone appears to respect him.

I wonder if he's already taken up the anagram of 'Lord Voldemort' or begun to amass followers amongst the Slytherins that I now sit amongst. It would be so easy to just put an end to it all right here, right now. I could just kill him, in this time, while he is not yet a fully trained wizard and still weak in comparison to what he will become. But time is a tricky thing and I do not know how Tom Riddle's death would effect the outcome of everything; it could cause everything I know and love from the future, my past, to unravel like a wool sweater when you try to pull a loose string. I know I can't change anything, and that's what makes this so hard.

I didn't even tell Dumbledore about Tom, though I so desperately wanted to. He is a wise man; I'm sure he would have refrained from doing anything to upset the tides of time, but if there is nothing that he can do about it, sowhy should I burden him with the knowledge at all? I think he already kind of knows to a certain degree, though I doubt he can even begin to imagine the terror Tom will unleash. I can hardly believe it myself.

Turning once more to look at the 16-year-old version of the man I've come to hate more than anything else, I wonder how this boy, quietly sipping pumpkin juice before me, could turn into the mass murdering atrocity that he is in my world. And I wonder ifI couldever fall that deep. Are we really so different after all? I'd like to think so, but...how can I know what the future will bring me? If the darkness should surround me, how can I stop myself from being consumed?

My right hand begins to tremble slightly as I began to feel utterly helpless against whatever fate may have in store for me. But I'm in control of my own destiny, aren't I? I don't believe in any of that fate crap anyway, despite the whole thing with the prophecy. I set my knife down gently on the table next to my plate and clasp my hands firmly in my lap, hiding them from view. Riddle gives me an odd look, but other than that I think my actions have gone completely unobserved, of which I am thankful.

Dinner seems to be winding down now, as many people finish up sizable servings of treacle pudding, the dessert for tonight (at least some things never change). Soon students and teachers alike start trickling out into the entrance hall and, presumably, their common rooms. I stand as I see Tom Riddle and a couple of other upper years, who never bothered to introduce themselves to me, leave the table.

Tom falls behind the group as they walk, falling into pairs with Tom being the odd man out. I lengthen my stride to catch up to him, wanting, for some inexplicable reason, to talk to him. "For all the table manners they possess, they do not seem capable of even a simple introduction, as would be polite," I say idly to Tom, looking at the group who walks ahead of us, unaware of my words.

Tom gazes intently at me, trying to decipher whether I am truly angry or merely being sarcastic, no doubt, and trying to figure out the hidden agenda behind my striking up a conversation with him. I always did take him for the cautious, paranoid sort. At length he speaks, "Excuse their rudeness, but they do not know you and have no reason to trust you. You arouse everyone's suspicion, coming here after the start of term and in your sixth year no less," Riddle says, giving me a single, calculating glance before proceeding to stare straight ahead as he continues down the hall, leaving me to contemplate his words.

"Does 'everyone' include yourself?" I ask him after a few moments deliberation, curious as to whether or not he finds me as untrustworthy as I find him. He turns to look at me again, his stride shortening as I take him somewhat by surprise with my question. He raises an eyebrow as if to ask why on earth I would ask such a thing.

Continuing his languid gate, he refrains from looking at me as he replies. "I have not yet decided whether or not I trust you. You seem genuine enough, although there is something off about you, and Slytherins in general are not the best people to place your trust in," he speaks conversationally, which seems odd to me considering what he is saying.

I nod my head in acknowledgement of his words, wondering why I am even talking to him in the first place. Sure, he's not _exactly_ my enemy, but…but he doesn't know who I am, therefore he has no reason to be out to kill me. I suppose this could be a good opportunity to gain some more information concerning Voldemort for when…if…I ever get back to my time. After all, they do say to 'know thy enemy.' This could prove useful.

I continue to ponder that thought as we make our way down to the dungeons in silence, not exactly companionable, but not terse either. We stop in front of a portion of the blank, stone wall: the entrance to the Slytherin common room. It is the same as I remember it from my little foray with polyjuice potion in second year.

Riddle speaks the password, putus cognatio—which if I remember correctly means pure blood in Latin—causing the stone wall to open revealing a doorway into an elegantly decorated room.

The chairs and couches look to be made of a high quality, black leather—or, perhaps, dragon skin. The dark, mahogany floor is shiny and rich in color, covered by plush, dark green area rugs that warm the place up a bit. There is an ornate fireplace along one wall that appears to be carved out of black marble and houses a roaring fire with sparkling green flames. There are various small tables set up around the room with armchairs in clusters of twos or threes surrounding them. It is a sleek, stylish set-up, with a high-class elegance about it, though it seems colder to me than the Gryffindor common room. Everything is pristine, there are no books or papers or games lying about, highlighting just how different it is here rather than in Gryffindor. I am already beginning to miss the homey, comfortable feeling of my old house.

I follow Tom as he silently leads me across the common room and up a flight of stairs that will, presumably, lead us to our dorm room. Hmm…_our_ dorm room…this is going to be interesting to say the least. I wonder who my other dorm mates are and whether or not they might actually give me the time of day once they figure out that we're going to have to share a room.

Walking into the sixth year boy's dormitory, I spot a large black trunk with silver clasps at the foot of the bed on the far left that has my alias on it. Thank goodness Dumbledore had the foresight to think of such things and get them prepared in time!

I head over to my bed, taking note of the fact that no one but Riddle and I are in the dorm at the moment. Looking at the trunk at the foot of the bed next to mine I see Riddle's name on a silver tag. Just my luck. Well, there's nothing I can do about it now, and it's not like there's anyone in here that I'd rather bunk next to.

Undoing the clasp on my trunk with a quick wave of my wand I rummage through the things Dumbledore has provided me with. My schedule is at the top of the neatly stacked heap, and I carefully extract it and set it aside to be looked at later. There are, of course, numerous books inside the trunk, schoolbooks, naturally. There's also a dark green book bag packed in neatly beside the tombs…how very Slytherin. I take it out and set it aside; I'll need to get it ready for classes tomorrow before I go to bed. Rifting quickly through the rest of the stuff, I find the usual school robes, with a Slytherin emblem sewn on of course, along with school uniforms, and other clothes. There's also a great deal of potions ingredients and a cauldron and anything else I'd need for my classes.

Deciding that I had nothing better to do now than get my books and such ready for tomorrow, I pick up my schedule and began to skim over my classes for Friday. I have potions first, then divination, and finally history of magic. Yippee. All of my least favorite classes in one day; it's going to be a nightmare.

With a resigned sigh, I heave my potion, divination, and history of magic books out of my trunk and pack them inside of my magically enhanced bag, which easily holds them all with room to spare. The potions ingredients, cauldron, and scales are next to go in, fitting comfortably in a rather large pouch I assume to have been designed for this exact purpose. Folding my schedule and placing it in a small pocket in the front of the bag, I find that I'm grateful that I don't have to worry about quills and ink and parchment and the like seeing as how Dumbledore has already had those necessities carefully packed in pouches in the bag ahead of time.

It's still pretty early, but I've had a long and eventful day, so I'm ready to go to bed. Finding some green, silk pajamas near the bottom of my trunk I quickly change into them and put all of the rest of my stuff back into the case before locking it with a voice recognition charm to ensure it won't be messed with. Because I doubt that my roommates are the most trustworthy people in the world. As a last thought, I add a warding spell as an extra precaution before pulling back the heavy, green velvet curtains that surround my four-poster bed. I place a warding spell on them too, to keep anyone from messing with me, along with a silencing charm.

Spelling my wand so that it will let off a high pitched beeping at seven o'clock to wake me up, I set it beside my pillow and lay down under the green covers of my new bed to attempt to get some sleep, wondering what new horrors tomorrow has in store for me.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, so this chapter was not really all that eventful, but…what can I say? Next chapter should be better. Harry will get to meet the rest of his new roommates and will be attending classes with his fellow Slytherins. Next chapter will probably be in Tom's pov just to let you know. Sorry if there are any mistakes in the chapter; by the time I got finished writing it I was too tired to go back through to proofread it. Anyways, I hope you all liked the chapter all right. And thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! 

Again, individual review answers have been removed because of FF's rules against such things.


	6. Keep Your Friends Close

Summary: It's not every day that someone discovers a new corridor in Hogwarts. When Harry does, he lets his curiosity get the best of him winds up in a lot of trouble, not to mention another time. Can he survive attending Hogwarts in the year 1942 with a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle? And how will this encounter change the fates of both boys? HP/TR SLASH

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I do not own Harry Potter or anything even remotely affiliated with it.

A/N: Information about Harry's roommates is at the end of the chapter in the author's notes.

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CHAPTER SIX: KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE

--(A/N: This chapter is from Tom's point of view.)--

Despite myself, I'm glad that it's Friday. Not that I particularly enjoy divination or history of magic, although potions isn't bad and can sometimes be quite entertaining considering the majority of the Gryffindors' and Hufflepuffs' ineptitude for the subject. Truly, though, while I have a certain thirst for knowledge, classes have become rather trivial for me. I have already mastered the seventh year material, let alone the sixth, so the whole point of going to class has become mute besides the obvious importance of keeping up appearances. No reason for me to go needlessly drawing attention to myself, now is there?

Mostly, I am thankful it's Friday because that means I have the whole weekend free to read Slytherin's diary and try to figure out where the Chamber of Secrets is and how to enter it. Surely the diary contains the information I need; now it's just a matter of reading through the book to find it. Years of research and reading have lead me to this point; only a few more days and all of my hard work will reach the climax I have been awaiting. I can be patient until then. After all, what's a few more days?

Pushing such thoughts to the back of my mind for the time being, I go mechanically about my daily routine. Grabbing my shower stuff and a fresh uniform and robe, I head toward the shared bathroom, glad that none of the other boys are up yet and I won't have to deal with waiting in line to shower.

The hot water feels like heaven as it eases my quidditch induced aches and pains. With the whole fiasco surrounding that new Jameson kid, I didn't have a chance to shower after practice yesterday. Thinking of Jameson, there's something…_off_ about him. In fact, I highly doubt Evan Jameson is even his real name. No one hesitates that much when giving their own name. And it was obvious that he lied about having an appointment with Dumbledore. The old coot may be absentminded, but there's no way he'd forget about having a meeting with a student. And then there was Jameson's reaction to me. It was as if he recognized me from somewhere; and he didn't seem to be too pleased by that fact. Odd, considering that he didn't seem familiar to me.

I came to the obvious conclusion that he would have to be kept a close eye on as I finished rinsing and turned off the shower. After drying myself and getting dressed, I headed back into the shared bedroom, taking note that Jameson was now awake and appeared to be gathering his own shower stuff together. I watched him from the corner of my eye as I went about putting my stuff back in the proper places. Listening intently, I heard him mutter a complicated locking charm combined with a voice recognition spell after closing his trunk. This was at least seventh year material, adding to my curiosity and wariness concerning the enigma that was 'Evan Jameson.'

"Morning," Jameson broke into my thoughts as he greeted me on his way toward the bathroom. I nodded in return, wondering at Jameson's agenda in seemingly trying to befriend me. If he was a true Slytherin, as appeared to be the case, then he would _definitely_ have some sort of agenda. But that's okay with me, because I have an agenda too. As the saying goes: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Evan Jameson isn't necessarily an enemy…_yet_, but he definitely isn't a friend. Not that Slytherins ever really befriend each other. It is more along the lines of forming alliances.

Slytherins, unlike the other houses, have a realistic view of human nature and the way the world works. Especially considering the fact that we're in the middle of a war. You never can be too careful in times like this. Never know who's going to end up on which side. 'Friendship' isn't worth sacrificing your life for.

Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it of such morbid thoughts this early in the morning, I turn as I hear the rustle of bed curtains off to my left. It would seem that Black has finally decided to get up. I watch as he stretches, smirking at him as I take note of his mussed up hair sticking up at odd angles. Catching my smirk, he sends a glare my way, not bothering to say anything as he stalks to the end of his bed and begins rummaging through his trunk for his toiletries.

Checking the time on the prank-proof magical clock sitting on my nightstand, I note that it's only 7:15. With a full thirty minutes until the group will be ready to head down to breakfast, I decide that I might as well get in some reading since I'm pretty much ready to go. Thankfully, I charmed Slytherin's diary to appear to be my potions text, so I don't have to worry about anyone becoming suspicious or nosy.

Lounging on my bed with the curtains open, I carefully read through the first entry in the diary as Lestrange, Malfoy, Crouch, and Helsengar all begin to get out of bed and ready for the day. I absently note Jameson entering the room again, fully dressed and with wet hair plastered to the side of his face, as Arcane makes a mad dash for the bathroom in order to claim the shower, the rest of the group rushing after him and cursing loudly. I let out a soft snort as I hear a mild crash sound from the bathroom and wonder if Black once again managed to slip on the tiled surface.

I disregard my reading for the moment as I opt instead to watch Jameson once again. I watch as he opens his trunk and puts his stuff away, drawing out a messenger bag and setting it aside before turning his attention back to the contents of his trunk. He sifts through the stuff in there for a minute, seeming to analyze what the trunk contains. It's almost as if he hasn't really had a chance to look at the contents yet. I find this odd, another thing to add to my growing list of things that seem to be strange about Jameson.

Deciding to be abnormally social and try to get closer to Jameson, if only for strategic purposes, I put my book into my book bag and sit up on my bed. "So, what classes are you signed up for today?" I question, noting Jameson's surprise at the fact that I'm talking to him.

"Potions, Divination, and History of Magic," he answers concisely, shutting and locking his trunk. Picking his bag up, he sets it atop his bed before sitting down beside it, facing me.

"Looks like you're stuck with me all day then," I inform him, giving him a half-smile, partially jesting and partially smirking at the fact that he's probably not too happy with this fact.

His face is blank as he merely stares back at me. "You take Divination?" he questions, seeming surprised by the fact, though he tries not to let it show.

Studying him, I ponder whether or not to tell him why I'm taking the class. Figuring that it can't hurt, and that it might even earn me a little of his trust, I decide to just go ahead and let him in on the fact. "Most of it may be a load of bull, but having some idea of what the future may hold has its benefits. It may only be about ten percent accurate, but that ten percent is better than nothing at all," I reveal seriously, gazing at him to gauge his reaction to my explanation.

He seems to ponder my words for a moment, digesting them, before nodding his head in an agreeing manner. "Divination can be useful if the information is accurate," he concedes, "though I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my own fate," he finishes earnestly, seeming somewhat lost in his thoughts as he stares off at nothing in particular. Focusing on me once again, he appears surprised that the fact that he revealed what apparently was supposed to be a private matter to me.

I can't help but be even more intrigued by this. I find that I agree with him on his assessment, but I can't help but wonder at how easily he revealed this piece of information. He doesn't seem to be quite as guarded as I at first assumed, though perhaps it was just a moment of weakness and nothing more.

Before I can form some sort of reply, I hear Cane and Lafayette enter from the direction of the bathroom arguing loudly with each other. "I told you that my sister is off limits, Black!" Lestrange yelled angrily at the other boy, glaring harshly as Arcane had the audacity to smirk triumphantly at him.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm just so damn appealing that the ladies, including your sister, just can't keep their hands off me," Cane announced arrogantly, narrowly dodging a hex aimed his way by a furious Lafayette.

I rolled my eyes at the all too typical display, laughing lightly as I notice a look of concern on Jameson's face. "Don't worry, they do this all the time," I tell him lightly before turning back towards my two fighting dorm mates. Pointing to the taller, almost black haired boy, I introduce him to Jameson. "This is Arcane Black. He goes by Cane most of the time, though," I announce, shaking my head as Cane bows dramatically with an extra flourish. Gesturing to the slightly shorter boy next to him with light brown hair, I introduce him as well. "And this is Lafayette Lestrange." Lafayette nods his head in Jameson's direction by way of greeting.

Jameson nods in return and gives Black an amused smile. "I'm sure you already know who I am from the announcement last night, but I'm Evan Jameson. You can just call me Evan," Evan announces, friendlily enough.

The door bursting open loudly and a sudden commotion signal that the other boys are done in the bathroom. They're all dressed and ready, _finally_. Turning toward the clock, I note that it's only 7:40. For once, they're early. Taking it upon myself once more to do the introductions, I point out a tall platinum blonde. "That's Mercutio Malfoy. Just call him Mercury, everybody does. Next to him is Mortimer Crouch. And on the end is Seiferous Helsengar. He goes by Seifer," I finish. I watch as Mercury sizes Evan up before nodding sedately. Mortimer gives a standard 'Hello,' by way of greeting, and Seifer smirks and nods arrogantly, in his usual manner.

"Hey. Evan Jameson. You can call me Evan," Evan announces again, looking the group over and seeming to analyze them. As a Slytherin, I wouldn't expect anything less than that. I can't help but wonder what he makes of them. And of me, for that matter. Not that it really makes a difference. Or, at least, that's what I try to tell myself. For some reason, though, I actually care about Evan's opinion. And I don't even want to _begin_ to analyze the reason why.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this fic! I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying it; it's been fun to write. I'm sorry that it has taken me soooooo long to update. I don't really have an excuse except for a combination of writer's block, being busy, laziness, and working on other fics. I'm not discontinuing the fic, though updates will probably take a long time. Sorry!

Harry's (Evan's) Roommates:  
- Tom Riddle (duh)  
- Lafayette Lestrange  
- Arcane (Cane) Black  
- Mercutio (Mercury) Malfoy  
- Mortimer Crouch  
- Seiferous (Seifer) Helsengar


End file.
